


how to save a life

by alifetime



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Big Brother Peter Parker, Book Therapy, Character Death Fix, Fix-It, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 16:09:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18694864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alifetime/pseuds/alifetime
Summary: fuck endgame , i'm fixing this shit.(MAJOR SPOILERS INSIDE)





	how to save a life

**Author's Note:**

> i loved endgame , don't get me wrong. incredible movie. i just ... yeah. a heroic thing tony did , and it was the only way to save humankind. ( not as if carol could have easily wielded the gauntlet and survived ) but peter losing not just 1 , not just 2 , but 3 fucking father figures ?? c'mon , marvel , give this damn kid a break. 
> 
> i would have loved to of saved natasha too , but i have no idea how that would have worked out without killing clint. i'll have to figure that one out if i ever get round to writing a fic like that. 
> 
> anyways, i really hope you enjoy. it's not the best, but i tried :)

There was that sound. It was a like a low rumble of thunder that vibrates the entirety of the ground they fought on. Peter knew what had happened. Knew _immediately_ as soon as an eerie silence seemed to of filled the atmosphere.

The enemies before him faded—turned to dust. For a brief moment, Peter allowed himself to feel some justified revenge. Watching those who had made them suffer through a war; to watch what they had made the surviving people of the world go through for the last five years. Something in his heart lifted at that.

Then it went down again.

There was only one person who could have done this.

With a heavy heart, Peter swung through the air, finding the source of the next problem. In the meantime, he removed his mask, needing to see everything more clearly, hearing the whistle of the dense wind through his ears.

Then he saw him.

He landed on the ground, heart hammering and lump already lying limply in his throat.

“Mr. Stark?”

He could hear his own voice wobbling.

“Hey, Mr. Stark…”

“Mr. Stark, can you hear me?” Peter crouched down so he was at Tony’s eye level. The look Tong was giving him … can he even make out Peter? “It’s Peter…” His stare was ghostly. He looked so pale, _sick_. The side of his face looked as if he had been in a fire accident.

“We did it, Mr. Stark.” Peter leaned closer. He brought his hands up to rest at Tony’s shoulder’s. The man continued to be unresponsive. It looked as if he wanted to say something. His eyes begged for him to speak, but he couldn’t seem to do it.

Peter felt his chest tighten.

No, _no_ , this couldn’t be it. Tony wasn’t meant to—not _Tony_ . It just _couldn’t_ be.

“Hey, we won. We did it, sir, _we did it…_ ” Peter let out a choked sob and shook a little at Tony’s shoulder. “ _I’m sorry, Tony..._ ” He let his head drop for a second before he moved to look at the man he had grown up admiring—whom he had loved even before Iron Man; this man who had saved him so many times. Who had given him hope for a new start, a new life to carry on. A reason to carry on. And the universe is going to take him just like _that?_

A hand laid itself on his shoulder. He tried shaking it off. He needed to be with Tony. Just one last time.

Tony was still looking at him. Faintly, Peter felt Tony’s hand reach for his before it dropped back down weakly, his energy being drained bit by bit. It was … it was truly terrifying seeing him like this.

Hands started taking him from Tony. He hadn’t realised he was sobbing—heart wrenching and agonising chest-filled sobs, making his entire body shake. Those hands that had grabbed him were holding him close, comforting him as he watched Pepper lean forwards and take her time with Tony. But he couldn’t hear the words she said to him—not exchange, because Mr. Stark was unable to speak.

“ _Please get help…_ ” Peter squeaked out through a small sob. “Someone get help.”

“We can’t, Peter.”

Whoever said that was wrong. They were close by him, but he couldn’t comprehend who had said it. And he doesn’t care for what has come from that someone’s mouth.

“Someone’s gotta help!” He gulped for air, feeling his lungs restricting. If he couldn’t help Uncle Ben, then he has to help Mr. Stark.

He angrily pushed away from the person holding him. His eyes wandered over the many Avengers who had fought and played their part. They were all gathering. He couldn’t… His chest tightened again and he felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He turned to Bruce, which was a little strange, but at that moment, he couldn’t care.

“Dr. Banner, please, you must know what to do!”

The Doctor shook his head, tears in his own eyes. “I can’t, kid. Just let it happen.”

“You can rest now,” Peter heard Pepper say.

_No, no, no, this can’t be happening. It wasn’t fair. Why did Tony have to go?_

“ _Mr. Stark!_ ” Peter heart felt like it was on fire. He still couldn’t breathe. He needed air, but the only way he could get that was through Tony.

Another pair of arms wound themselves around him to keep him back. He tried fighting them, sobbing, crying out—he couldn’t even hear himself at that moment. Because the world was becoming blank. He couldn’t feel. The tips of his fingers were growing numb and the pushing of the person’s arms around him were becoming weaker. He just … He just couldn’t do it. He can’t. And he never will.

 

+

 

Peter awoke with a gasp. His head was pounding against his skull and the borough lights of the room were blinding him. There was an empty sort of numbness in his chest and suddenly the world game crashing down on him once again; the reality that Tony is dead. Another person he admires and loved gone in his life.

Forgive him for feeling selfish about this. Couldn’t the world give him a break? He feels as if he’s lost too much already. His parents … Uncle Ben, and now Tony? The one man who he thought was indestructible—Tony is _Iron Man_ , but he was also so much more than that. He didn’t have a spider bite, super serum, spy skills—he was a real human being underneath that armour and he bled, he hurt _more_ , and yet he was the most realest and valiant person of them all.

Peter sat up, realising he was in a hospital bed. Nothing was attached to him, and he was sleeping on top of the covers instead of under them.

The clothes he was wearing were the save he had been wearing on the school trip a little more than a day ago. Or no … was it a day ago? It certainly felt like it. He has no clue as to how long everyone has been gone. He’s just hoping it wasn’t too long.

It made him think of Ned. And May. Had they survived the snap? Were they older now? If it had been more than a day … Peter fears it’s been more than just a couple of weeks. For all he knew, Ned could have left high school by now. Or perhaps the snap had led them all back in time?

The room he was in was empty. Void of any other human life. It made him sweat a little, the thought of being alone not an option right now. But then, just as he was swinging his legs over the bed, the door burst open and in came Aunt May.

_“Oh my God, Peter!”_

He was engulfed into the tightest hug he had been in. May’s arms wrapping around his shoulders, letting one of her hands trail to his curls to bring his head down to her shoulder.

Under her breath Peter could make out the small hitches of his name being said. As if repeating his name wouldn’t make him disappear.

“May?” Peter croaked, hugging back just as tightly. Her motherly touch brought him down to earth a little more than he had felt for since Uncle Ben.

“My baby…” May whispered and Peter could tell she was crying. Sniffling softly and burying her eyes on his shoulders to hide the tears. He must look and smell disgusting.

She pulled back, a wobbly smile on her lips. “My baby, I’ve missed you…”

Peter couldn’t help but smile a little. Even though it felt like a couple of days of not seeing her, he had a feeling it’s been a lot longer for her.

“I missed you too, May,” Peter said, barely above a whisper. They dissolved back into hug, Peter melting at her motherly touch. He felt safe within May’s arms. More safer than he had felt since the spider bite. He knows he can look after himself, but he will never hesitate to fall back into the arms of May Parker.

They stayed in that hug for a little longer. Peter wouldn’t have minded if they just went home right now; if they went home, sat on the sofa, and just cuddled for hours. No movie on in the background. No food in place, nor any drinks to quench their thirst; he just needed to be with her.

Then, that familiar pain tightened in his chest again. He started trembling in May’s grip and he knew she could feel it. Tiny little breaths were almost becoming erratic. He kept on seeing flashes of blinding light, explosions left and right, the pain of disappearing, his missing of hugs from Mr. Stark.

“Peter, breathe, you’re okay now, sweetie. I got you.” May was holding his cheeks, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

Peter shook his head, coughing pathetically as his heart seemed to squeeze in on him. “Mr. Stark…”

“Oh, honey…”

“I—I want him here. He’s not h-here—”

“Peter—”

Peter gasped for more breath, his fingers tightening on May’s shoulders. She didn’t show any signs of discomfort. Instead, a sad smile crossed her lips. Only one hand now caressed his cheek, and he leaned into it, seeking, _needing_ that comfort.

“Mr. Stark is dead,” whispered Peter. It didn’t feel right saying it.

May shook her head. At first Peter thought she was being in denial of what he had just announced. But then—

“He’s not dead, baby,” she said quietly. Her voice was still a little wobbly. If not on the edge of bursting into a fresh load of tears. But she kept strong. Because she’s May. And Peter wouldn’t know what to do without her.

“W-what?” He swallowed. His mouth was dry and sticky; that didn’t matter right now. His heart started to hammer against his chest like it had when he saw Uncle Ben bleeding to death, when he saw the lights in Tony’s eyes slowly fading. “No, I-I saw—”

“They moves him as fast as they could,” May continued gently. She still had her thumb soothing across his bruised cheek. “He’s not here. He’s been moved to a high facility. They’re taking care of him well, Peter.”

Peter almost choked on the air. He needs to calm down. But … does that mean?

“H-He’s alive?” he squeaked. “Aunt May … he’s alive? He’s not goin’ anywhere?”

May laughed wetly. “No, sweetheart. He’s not.”

Peter couldn’t help but tackle her into a hug once again. Mr. Stark is alive. Tony is _alive_. And in that moment, Peter could feel more alive as well.

“I-I thought he died,” he squeaked out. His hands were shaking in their grip on May’s back, pulling at her shirt desperately. “He was g-gone! I saw!” A new wave of tears settled on his cheeks, his nose stuffy, no amount of sniffing clearing it up.

“I know baby, I know. Breathe for me, Peter. Please breathe—you gotta breathe for me.”

Peter tried to copy her breathing patterns. He feels as if there is no more air in his lungs; even with May with him, he can’t help but feel _helpless_. Tony may be alive, it doesn’t mean he isn’t hurt though.

There was a few minutes of Peter calming down, May continuing to rub at his back, once placing a kiss to his forehead. Peter did eventually smooth his breathing. The tips of his fingers were numb, the excessive trembling of his small body coming to a minimum.

“Can I see him?” Peter croaked. “Please, May. I-I need to see him—” He whimpered into her shoulder, his breathing becoming erratic again.

“Shhh, shhh, c’mon Peter. Calm down…”

Another moment of terrified silence passed by them.

“You can see him.” May pulled back, hands resting on both of his cheeks and wiping at his crying tears. “You need to breath, okay? It’s all gonna be fine.”

Peter wanted to believe May. He wish he could. But he couldn’t. It isn’t as if he’s going to let her know that, though.

Gradually, Peter moved from the bed. His legs were a little wobbly when touching the floor. May tucked her arm around his waist to steady him and he pushed away, saying he was fine. He felt a little shitty for doing that, but he needed to do things for himself. He realised that he puts too much pressure on May as it is.

They slowly made their way from the room, May standing close to him, leading the way. The hospital facility they must be in was huge, white hallways decorating its widened floors. The sight of it made Peter’s sensors ring prominently and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to contain the whimper building up in his throat.

They came to a private floor. A few doctors were walking around. One sent a small, soft smile in Peter’s direction. He tried smiling back, but it turned out more to be a sad grimace.

The room number was labelled 221, separated from a lot of other rooms. May knocked quietly and then entered.

Peter found Pepper sat beside Tony’s bed, her hand curled up around his own limp one. In her lap sat a little girl with dark, brown hair and big brown eyes that scarily resembled Tony’s. How long has he been gone again?

Pepper looked over. “Peter…” Her voice was soft and her smile showed tremendous pain. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and her eyes sparkled with something Peter couldn’t decipher.

He was surprised when she lifted the small girl into her arms and brought Peter in for a tight side hug. He doesn’t know Pepper all that well; he’s only seen her on the Friday’s after school briefly when he would go to Tony’s lab and sit there, working on schoolwork, his suit, new web fluids and just in general chit-chat. She would greet him politely with a small smile and escort him to the lab.

Now that she is hugging him, he couldn’t help but melt a little into the touch. It was almost as motherly as May’s touch, except no one can beat May. But it is someone he knows and trusts; she has helped him try to deliver the gauntlet and infinity stones to the quantum realm.

When they pulled back, he smiled sadly. “How are you, Ms. Potts?”

Pepper chuckled, lifting the small, shying girl in her arms a little bit more up her hips. “Pepper, Peter. You know this. And I’m doing fine, sweetie. How are you?”

Peter nodded his head a little at the question and blushed under her gaze. May’s hand rested on his shoulder, squeezing gently. “I’m doing good.” He looked over at Tony.

Beneath him he almost felt the ground shake. He couldn’t recognise the man he had grown up loving; who had had soon grown to love as a mentor. One who helped him from dark-spots and let him sleep after a hard days work at school. His face still looked as if it was burned, but quickly healed up, due to something Peter can’t quite place at the moment. All he knows is that the mess will not be cleared up. And his skin in so pale, gaunt. It made Peter shiver.

“Extremis,” he whispered. He looked back at Pepper. “That’s what’s keeping him alive.”

Pepper nodded. “It was a long shot. But it worked.” Her eyes travelled back to Tony’s decaying face. There were tubes running through his nose and an oxygen mask covering his mouth. A ventilator stood by his bedside and a drip was placed securely in the veins of his arm, as well as a feeding tube for him. The thought of Mr. Stark in a coma—unconscious and unable to do anything until he so much as blinks his eyes open, made Peter’s lip tremble. But he can’t cry. Especially not in front of Pepper, or this little girl. What was it that Doctor Strange had said?

_“C’mon, kid, they need us. It’s been five years.”_

_It’s been five years._

Is this Tony’s and Pepper’s little girl?

He can’t cry in front of her.

Peter couldn’t help the small gasp of breath that escaped him. Pepper’s eyes shot back to his, a worrying glance telling him that she was indeed worried for him as well.

“He’s gonna be alright?” He couldn’t help but ask that. He can’t lose Tony. Not him too.

Pepper’s hand came up to rest at his cheek. He held back the tears. His eyes glanced at the girl and she buried her face in Pepper’s shoulders, tiny hands resting by her chest.

“Yes. He’s going to be fine, Peter.”

Peter and May had to go after that. It was a shame; Peter felt a lot lighter and happier knowing that Tony was going to be okay. But when he had to go, he couldn’t help the dreaded feeling that something was going to happen to Tony when he left. However, from the reassuring hug that Pepper had given him, he held a little hope. He didn’t really say goodbye to the girl, not really catching her name. He would feel better—much better if Tony introduced them two to each-other properly.

To Peter’s surprise, when the exited the hospital, Happy was standing outside l, ready to take them home. And Peter has no clue what came over him; in one swift move, he was hugging Happy. And the poor man stumbled back a bit, obviously in shock. And Peter felt the man’s hands awkwardly pat him on the back.

Even though it hasn’t felt like five years, the atmosphere around him definitely told him it has been. So seeing Happy made him feel even safer.

“You’re alright, kid,” Happy mumbled. He was a little baffled and embarrassed, Peter could tell. So he showed mercy and stepped back, a shy smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Happy.”

Happy’s contrasted smile places something warm within Peter’s chest. Did Happy disappear as well? Or had he been here for the last five years?

May greeted Happy and then hopped into the car, not forgetting to thank the man for the ride home.

Leaving the hospital put a strain in Peter’s hands. They were shaking a little, holding close together to contain the damn tremor. He was leaving Tony behind, but he had to. What else is he to do? Tony will be with Pepper at his little girl. He doesn’t need Peter watching over him.

 

+

 

“I wonder how they all got down.”

Peter’s ears picked up on the quiet gossip around the room. They were talking of the huge and final battle. Not much has been made aware of what really happened to the public for privacy and government reasons and issues, but people remember the dusting. And Tony Stark had disappeared into space—it was obvious that some other Avengers were up there too. Some even suspected that Spider-Man was with him. Which he was.

“It must have been so cool!”

 _Yeah, it was at the time,_ Peter thought bitterly. His mind has been racing all day. Leaving Tony at the hospital didn’t feel right; him unconscious with no consent on what he can do. His daughter and Pepper sitting by his side almost all day. It all felt so surreal. And his senses were almost dialling 11 today. The gossiping just wasn’t helping.

“Apparently Iron Man nearly died.”

_He’s not just Iron Man. Tony Stark is so much more than Iron Man._

In that moment, he really wished Ned was in his English class. The natural calm domineer of Ned always soothes him. Even before all of this happened.

“Spider-Man almost died—he turned to dust.”

“Yeah. It was strange without seeing a video about him every other day.”

Peter sighed and tried to block out the whispering. The assessment lie in front of him mockingly, laughing at his slow brain of having to read the question over at least four times already.

There was a girl next to him chewing gum too loudly. The pop and crack staining her teeth with each-bite. Someone in front of him was tapping their pen on the table. The chattering never ceased. It was as if the world had gone crazy.

Suddenly, without his knowledge, Peter sat up from his desk, chair scraping irritably against the floor. Heads shot up, staring in his direction as he flung his backpack over his shoulder, left his pencil and work on the table and left the classroom. He’s sure he heard the teacher calling after his name but he ignored them.

His heart was pounding, blood rushing through his ears as he barely made it to the toilets on time. He could hear himself breathing rapidly and heavily, hands shaking as they pushed open one of the stall doors and locked it behind himself. He was thankful no one else was in the bathroom, because the breaths that were triggering his tremor were hard, ragged and choked. It felt as if his lungs were burning and squeezing within themselves.

 _Calm down, calm down,_ he tried telling himself. But no words escaped. Dry sobs were starting to make their way from him, panicked and clawing at his sweater.

Somehow, he managed to fish his phone from his pocket. A strange sense of déja vû overcoming him as he makes his way to his contacts.

By M he found May. And his thumb hovered over the call button. Tears were now staining his cheeks and the more he listened to his pathetic sobs bouncing off of the walls off the bathroom, the more in depth his panic seemed to be. God, he can’t breathe. And he wants Aunt May; he _needs_ Aunt May.

But then he found himself scrolling towards T and found Tony’s number. The Stark had given Peter his number after Vulture, and Peter never really called Tony. Usually he would ride out his silly anxiety on his own. However, when he felt as if he couldn’t breathe and the sobs that wracked his small body threatened to consume his mental being, he would phone Tony, and the man would take his time off in order to talk to Peter—talk him through it, allow him to breath and tell him stupid stories over the phone that have no relevance. It made Peter feel better, and he would gradually calm down.

Now, he couldn’t. Tony wasn’t going to answer—

His finger pressed call and he brought the phone up to his ear, sobbing, bringing his knees to his chest and shivering from the dirty, dank bathroom.

The ring was slow. It echoed in Peter’s ear, ring after ring. No one was going to pick up.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.s voice came through.

“Mr. Stark is unavailable.”

Tony doesn’t like it when people leave him messages, so Peter ended it and cried out in a pain of anguish. Something in his chest hurt—it physically hurt, because his heart was squeezing in on itself, forcing out those cries. Those flashes of Titan, feeling that pain of disintegrating and clinging onto Tony for dear life.

_“You’re alright.”_

He’s okay.

Peter choked and coughed violently, spittle flying from his mouth as he tried to take a deep breath.

He’s sorry; he didn’t mean to lose. And that must have put a strain on Tony. He’s being selfish by trying to call him. Knowing that Tony is unresponsive. Knowing that he needs to be left alone to rest. Once again, he’s thinking of himself.

His finger was hovering over the call button again. Then his mind kept on switching between calling Tony it May. Tony needed rest. He couldn’t disrupt May when she’s working.

As his panicking increased, he went to his voicemails, went onto the later and earlier ones and pressed play.

_“Hey kid, missed your message. How’s about you come Saturday instead? Hope you feel better soon.”_

Peter sobbed out at the message; it wasn’t on loud speaker, preferring to keep the phone to his ear so only he could hear his mentor’s voice.

_“Parker, you gotta stop showing up places you’re not supposed to be. You realise you’re the one giving me grey hairs, right?”_

Peter laughed a little at that, remember a few months ago when he was in the middle of a brutal robbery that involved too many guns for May’s liking. And even Tony’s liking by the sounds of it.

Even though in these messages Tony sounded stern and a little on edge, Peter could hear the concern in his voice—concern for Peter.

_“Kid, you better get your spider-ling ass back to your aunt’s before she has an aneurysm.”_

_“Don’t forget about your suit this time, Underoos. There is only so much of Star Wars I can bear to listen to.”_

Before Peter knew it, his breathing began to gradually even put. Small, little whimpers still made a display of confrontation, but his lungs no longer felt as if they were squeezing each-other to death; his heart didn’t feel as it were in his throat. The tears had stopped which left him with a sticky, warm face of tears and snot. The only left evident of his panicking state was the small tremble in his fingers, one clutching his phone in his hand and the other fingers in his mouth, biting at the skin and nails there.

“Hey, Peter. Spend the weekend here, won’t you? We got a lot to work on, bud.”

A small, final sob emitted from his lips. In any professional situation, Tony always addresses him as ‘Parker’. Even kid. He hardly ever uses Peter’s first name, because being Tony Stark comes with a cascade of ridiculous names. But when he calls him _Peter_ … Peter switched off his phone and buried his face into his arms that were curled around his knees.

It’s been a good week since he’s last seen Tony. He’s going to go tonight. He can’t stand to be away from him much longer.

 

+

 

No one was in the room when he entered. He was a little surprised, expecting to see Peter or their daughter. No such person. In his own selfish way, Peter was glad. He needs some time to Tony himself.

With a shaky sigh, he sits down on the chair, leaning over slightly and looking at Tony; looking past all the tubes and machines connected to his mentor.

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” He kept his tone light. Even though Tony can’t hear him. He smiled, chuckling a little. “I know what you’re gonna say. I haven’t been here for a good week, and I’m sorry about that.” For a moment, he wondered practically whether talking to himself was a little mental. He continued, nevertheless.

“So…” He reaches forward, subconsciously going to grab at the man’s hand when he pulled back again. An embarrassed blush covered his cheeks. When Tony comforted Peter physically, he would hold onto one of Peter’s hands and place it against Peter’s chest, to prove that his heart is still beating whilst the other hand is pushing against his curls, head brought down to Tony’s own chest.

At first he thought that touching Mr. Stark would bring the man some comfort … But he wouldn’t register him anyway.

“Unfortunately school is back on track,” Peter mumbled. He sat up a little straighter, trying not to look at the face of Tony Stark. “It’s boring. I got better things to do, ya’ know? I think you would find me rambling to you about how much I hate school if you were awake.”

Peter doesn’t know how long he sat there, almost as if he is talking to himself. But he found himself nearly having a heart attack when the door to the room opened.

He whipped his head around, expecting to see Pepper, Happy, or at least anyone else he vaguely knew. But no. Who walked in was a boy. Or is he even a boy? He was tall, lanky, with dark hair that curled around the nape of his neck. His eyes were dark and fierce, eyes pointing on Peter.

“I’m here to see Tony,” he said. His voice was a little deep, and he looked like he wanted Peter to leave.

“Um…” Peter stood up, dusting the invisible dirt off of his jeans. “I-I’m Peter. Parker. My names Peter Parker.”

The boy before him he nodded, a small smirk playing on his lips. To Peter’s surprise, he held out his hand, much larger than Peter’s and less dainty. “I’m Harley. Tony mentioned you a few.”

Peter let the weight of Harley’s hand from his fall. Did Tony just harvest children or something?

“I helped him out once,” Harley continued, settling himself down in the seat Peter was just sitting in. Peter stood a little awkwardly, fiddling with his hands together. “I presume you did too.”

That is the thing for Tony. He will gladly make friends with anyone, because at first approach and even at last he is a generally all-around friendly guy. But it takes a lot for Tony to actually trust someone. And in the Stark’s own selfish way, he needs that someone to prove themselves. Peter guesses that him helping the man out made Tony a little more comfortable around a kid. Perhaps it was the same with this boy?

“We spoke sometimes. And he told me about you. About who you are.”

Thank you, Mr. Stark.

Peter couldn’t be bothered to question why on Earth Tony would tell Harley that. But it does click on his mind as to why Tony would tell this ‘random’ boy that.

“I-I should go…” Peter gestured towards the door.

Harley nods. “Thank you.”

He assumes it’s a thank you to Peter for letting him have his time with Tony. Peter respected that and shut the door behind him. He couldn’t really work around the clocks; how is it that Tony told Harley about him but never mentioned Harley to Peter once? He seemed maybe a bit younger than Peter, but he couldn’t exactly tell because despite being nearly eighteen, Peter looks about fifteen-years-old still.

As he walked down the hall, looking up at the ceiling and not really observing the people around him, he nearly tripped over something, producing both a small yelp from him and from something else. Well, some _one_ else.

He nearly went stumbling face first to the floor but balanced himself. If he wasn’t Spider-Man then he would have definitely eaten shit.

He looked in front of him and immediately felt shame punch him in the chest at an alarming rate.

He knocked over the little girl; Tony’s and Pepper’s little girl.

Swiftly, he bent down and helped her up. “Hey there, I’m really sorry!” He let her balance herself. Luckily for him, she didn’t cry. She looked a bit startled, like anyone would be at a shirt height like her’s and into a big, scary teenager.

Her eyes met his and once again Peter was bewildered by the uncanny resemblance of her and Tony. It felt strange, knowing that Tony now has a child of four-years-old. Very cute and innocent, new to the world and having no clue as to why her Dad is in the condition he is in.

“I-I’m really sorry.” Peter didn’t know really how to deal with children. All he knew is that he didn’t want to intimidate the poor girl. Who shouldn’t really be wandering about without an adult by her side as it is. Something Tony does; he wanders and it takes many minutes to find him again.

He crouched down so he was eye-level. She looked away from him, shy gaze anywhere but his face.

“Hey…” He said softly, not caring they were in the middle of the hallway. “I’m Peter. What’s your name?”

There was no answer for a moment. Peter thought he would have to move onto the next step before she said, barley above a whisper, “Morgan.”

_Morgan._

“That’s a really nice name,” Peter said softly. He smiled along with it, hoping it would open her up a bit more.

“Thank you,” she replied sweetly. “Mommy told me Daddy thought of the name.”

 _Of course he did,_ Peter couldn’t help but think fondly.

“Your Dad’s a great man, isn’t he?”

Morgan nodded. The frown that was on her face morphed into a shy, more opening grin. “He’s the best. And he’s very funny.”

Peter nodded in agreement. “I bet he lets you get up to all sorts of mischief.”

Morgan pouted at him. “Daddy says he’ll sell my toys if I’m naughty. But Mommy says he never means it.” At this, she giggles.

Peter laughed along with her. Classic Tony. Except he really did take Peter’s suit away. It was almost the equivalent of being grounded. _Almost._ Even Peter’s too proud to admit that he got _grounded_ by _Tony Stark._

“Did you know he once took some of my things away?” said Peter.

Morgan giggles again. “You must have done something really naughty.”

“That I did.” Peter nodded. He still smiled. Now that he looked back at it, he could give a good giggle.

“Is he your Daddy too?”

Peter froze for a moment before regaining his will to live again. “Nah. He’s my mentor. He teaches me new things and helps me with work.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

Now this is the question Peter was afraid of answering. Pepper had told Peter Tony would be alright. But was that just her comforting a scared child?

Peter couldn’t help but let his smile falter a little. As a child of Pepper Potts and Tony Stark, it is no secret that this little girl is most likely to become too observant and intelligent for her own good. So she saw his smile falter, and he wanted to kick himself.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Peter coughed, his legs starting to become tired. He could always rest his hand on the floor by his feet as well so he’s in his signature Spider-Man pose of resting, but he feared it would look a little strange.

“Is Daddy not gon’ be okay?” she repeated, her childish whine desperate and noticeable behind her begging eyes.

“He’s going to be fine,” said Peter a little breathlessly. She was like a little puppy begging for food. And Peter couldn’t disappoint her. He straightened up and plaster a smile on his face again. “Do you know why he’s going to be alright?”

Morgan shook her head a little sadly.

“Because your Dad is the strongest and bravest man I know,” said Peter. “He’s gone on a lot of missions and he’s beat all the bad guys.”

Morgan nodded, her small smile coming back. “My Daddy is very strong. He builds a lot of things for me; he built a treehouse for me at home.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun.” Peter really was starting to get tired on his feet now. His ankles were starting to strain.

“I miss it when Daddy would read me a bedtime story,” Morgan says out of the blue.

Peter ignored his discomfort a little longer. “He used to read to you?”

“Him and Mommy did. But since Daddy is sick he can’t.”

Peter thought about this for a moment. Before he could reply, he heard the familiar voice of Pepper.

“Morgan, there you are!”

Morgan swivelled around and waved. “Hi, Mommy.”

Pepper swooped her up and placed a kiss to Morgan’s forehead. Peter allowed himself to tans up, ignoring the dizzy spell that past him. He needs something to eat. He forgot about breakfast and lunch today. Especially at his damn metabolism.

“Can we see Daddy now?”

Pepper nodded with a soft smile before her gaze moved to Peter. “You okay, Peter?”

“I’m good, thank you,” he said lightly. “I was just making my way out.”

“Will you be around?” As she said this, he couldn’t help but let his gaze wander to Morgan. She was looking at him with those eyes, reminding him so much of Tony. She looked a little put-out, as if he was going to say no.

“I - uh, yeah. Yes, I will be.” He folded his arms over his chest, a light shiver crawling up his spine. “I’ll be around. I’ll see you later, Ms. Potts.”

She didn’t care that him this time. In fact, he was pretty sure her name was Stark now. He knew they were going to get married—whether they did that in the last five years or not, he’s more than certain they did.

He left, a little dejected for leaving Tony—not only that, but Morgan and Pepper as well. Perhaps even Harley had wormed his way into Peter’s guilt for disappearing as well. Either way, he let himself ignore his homework for that evening and sleep.

 

+

 

Being plagued with nightmares isn’t fun for anyone. Peter’s night terrors don’t happen often. Though they seem to be getting more frequent.

He doesn’t wake up screaming like he feared he would. Instead, he wakes up, breathing rapidly, tears stinging his eyes, some even making their way down his cheeks whilst he clutched his pillow by his chest.

Briefly, he remembers once staying at the compound with Tony for the night. He woke up, in tears, but trying to keep himself quiet. He hadn’t realised Tony had come into the room until a gentle hand was laid upon his shoulder. He can’t really remember what happened because he was borderline hysterical at that point. Tony has shushed him, calmed him down and eventually even allowed Peter to crawl onto his lap and cuddle by his chest. It only happened in a rarity of a lifetime, because Peter knew Tony isn’t exactly the most comfortable with affection. That night he seemed to know Peter was troubled and allowed his sentiment side show through.

So every time he wake from a bad dream, he always clutching his pillow and crying mutely for Tony to come and get him; to make it all okay. But he can’t.

Normally, he wouldn’t even dare to think to go to his Aunt May. She didn’t need that. Especially as she had worked late tonight. It seemed so unfair on her. She didn’t need to worry; he can’t be a burden to her.

But as childish instincts go, he found himself getting out of bed, his pillow still clutched to his chest. He wished he still had his Bucky Bear. A gift his Uncle Ben gave him after the passing of his parents. He knows it’s probably still under his bed somewhere, but he can’t find it right now. He was panicking, shaking, crying too much.

In one swift motion he was opening May’s door and found that she was on her side, covers resting under her arm, the other under the pillow where her head lay. Peter tried keeping quiet. He really did. He couldn’t really see. As his bedroom provided him with a nightlight and her’s didn’t. But he supposed his sobbing awoke her.

“Peter?” she said, sleep laced tiredly in her voice.

He tried muffling his sobs in his pillow. He must look pathetic. Even as May reached over and turned her bedside lamp on—he must look like an absolute child.

“Oh, baby…”

Peter made his way over to May when she shifted in her bed, allowing space for Peter to climb in. He took that advantage, feeling so terribly selfish. However, the still child within him begged for comfort from a mother at the moment. And May was here. She was safe.

May reached around his shoulders and guide his head to her chest. Her hand automatically weaves their way into the back of his head, lightly pulling at the curls.

He couldn’t stop crying it’s seemed. Shaking, spurts of coughs and his own hand pulled around his pillow and to his chest to somewhat ground himself. May continued to hush him, pressing light kisses to his hair and telling him it was okay.

“You’re okay … You’re okay…”

Peter choked on his own voice, cuddling more into May. She pulled him impossibly tighter, still shushing him like a child; he felt like a child, that is for sure.

To May, it didn’t matter how long she spent trying to calm her nephew down. Having Peter here altogether was almost like a smack in the face. Having him gone for five years, May almost began to lose hope. Especially when Tony limited his calls and there was no Happy around to chat with. She felt so alone. Even without Ned it was peculiar. Now that her family are here again, it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her chest.

Comforting Peter is a speciality of her’s. From the nightmares he had after his parents, after Ben, after Homecoming, now dealing with the aftermath of Thanos was just a huge ‘Fuck You’ to Peter. Hadn’t her kid had enough of this shit?

“I w-was all a-alone.”

May pushed back her stubborn tears. Hearing Peter’s voice so small and vulnerable is one of the most heart wrenching things she could listen to.

“Mr. Stark … Ned … MJ … _you…_ ” His voice broke, another bout of sobs wracking his small body. Even being Spider-Man, Peter was still quite small. Despite his muscle and wit, he’s like a puppy in an adults body. It just didn’t go well. Not at the moment, anyway. “A-and, I - May - I couldn’t ss-save you. It was all my fault! It was…” He broke off with a strangled cough.

May sat up a little more, pulling her beloved with her. Peter didn’t look up, his tears soaking her nightshirt. Not that she cared in the slightest.

“Peter … Baby, look at me.” She pulled her hand to his cheeks so he could look up at her. She tried to ignore the flowing of tears down his cheeks, in the yellow light his sclera rimmed red and eyelids bright and puffy. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Peter cried out more, trying to look away so he could once again bury himself to her side.

“No, Peter, look at me.”

At her stern but gentle voice, he complied, trying to blink away the waterfall of tears. It didn’t work as May suspected.

“None. Of this. Was your fault. I don’t know how long it will take me to convince you, but I’m here now. And you’re here. And we’re safe..” Her thumb wiped at a stray tear. He whimpered. “Oh, baby…” She encouraged him to lie back down and he did so. His sobs have died down to brutal gasps of air and sniffles as she lie on her back, one arms over his back and the other hand reaching up to sooth his fringe and curls away from his face.

“You’re okay,” mumbled Peter. His voice was a little muffled from his blocked nose. “You’re gonna be okay, Aunt May.”

May let a sad smile grace her lips. She still didn’t let any tears fall.

“I am, Peter.”

She felt him nod slightly. “Yeah. You’re here. And you’re safe.”

“That’s right, Peter. I am.”

 

+

 

“Hey, Morgan.”

The little girl was sat beside Tony’s bed. She was the only one in here. He was surprised to see her; the sky was inked in black paint. Shouldn’t she be in bed by now?

“Hello, Peter!” she exclaimed happily.

A good month has passed since the first collision with Morgan. Peter listened to Pepper’s subtle advice in visiting Tony. The man still lay in a coma, but the colour to his face was regaining and weight was being placed back onto him. The burned side of his face  and arm will be forever scarred, but it no longer looked painful to wake to. At least a couple of times a week he would visit Tony. Most of the time he would run into Morgan and Pepper. He even saw Harley a couple more times. The boy had let him know he would be sticking around for a while. And he found he got along with Harley. They both had a good couple of stories to share about Tony.

As of now, it was a Friday night. As much as May supports the idea of him going a long way to see Tony like he used to anyways, she would rather he take a step back sometimes and do his homework as he was slipping behind.

“What are you doing up, little miss?” Peter settled himself down in the chair next to her. She was holding a teddy close to her chest and her small hand was drawing circles onto Tony’s palm.

“Mommy is talking to Mr. Fury,” mumbled Morgan. Her gaze was memorized onto her Dad’s hand, her small tongue poking out. “Anyways, I don’t wanna leave Daddy for tonight.”

Peter let the sleeves of his hoodie (Tony’s MIT hoodie he had accidently stolen a year back—not that Tony ever asked for it back nor commented on it when Peter would wear it around him) fall over his hands, the chill of the room seeping to his decaying bones.

“I’m going to read Daddy a bedtime story,” stated Morgan. She let go of Tony’s hand and reached across to the desk. Peter watched as she pulled out a little children’s book. She looked up at Peter shyly. “I know you come every Friday, so I was, um, wondering if you would help me read?”

Peter’s heart swelled morally at the act of her asking for him, waiting for him.

“Of course I will.”

Morgan handed him the book.

Over the past month Peter wouldn’t necessarily say the two of them were close, but he’s become a little friend for Morgan. That is why he was completely caught off guard when Morgan wiggled off of hr chair and climbed into his lap, situating herself so she was also facing the book as such.

Peter didn’t say anything but he froze for a moment. Morgan giggled at this. “C’mon! It’s nearly bedtime and Daddy needs to go to sleep!”

Ah. She got that from the lack of sleep Tony always used to get.

“Alrighty then…”

The book was a good five minutes long. Peter did his best in imitating the character.

“You’re not as good as Daddy or Mommy, but that’s okay!”

She magically pulled out another book, and by the time Peter got through at least three books, with less interactions from Morgan, he found that before the last few words of a book of _Winnie-the-Pooh_ , Morgan became lax in his hold and she had started snoring lightly in his arms.

“Oh, crap,” Peter whispered. Carefully, he put the book to the side, gently so to not wake Morgan up. “Alright … slowly.” By now his backside has gone numb, and maneuvering Morgan deemed a more difficult task than he first thought.

He placed his hands under Morgan armpits and steadily lifted her and swiftly twisted her around so her head was resting on his shoulder and hands wrapped around his back. Her legs hung loosely around his waist as he did his best to balance her on his hip, but that was mainly up to girls to have that prominent body part.

Morgan mumbled something into his neck before settling down again. Peter couldn’t help but laugh lightly, looking down at Tony’s unconscious face.

“What d’you say, Mr. Stark?” he said. “Looks like I will be your new babysitter. As no one needs to babysit me anymore.” He never expected an answer. It doesn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.

He did his best in layering the books down on the chair before giving one last goodbye to his mentor and walking from the room, closing the door with a soft click. There was a clock opposite the door and he chuckled.

“No wonder you’re so tired, Morgana” said Peter, the silly nickname easily slipping. “It’s almost 10.” He started walking along the hallway. It was somewhat quiet, save for a few whispering voices from each shut room whistling in his ears. Sometimes his manic hearing is a blessing, but also a curse.

Just as he adjusted the girl again, Pepper came into view, a weary, tired smile on her face.

“Oh, thank you, Peter.” She pried Morgan from Peter’s arms.

“No problem, Ms Po—sorry.” He shook his head with a sheepish grin. “Mrs. Stark, right?”

Pepper only scoffed playfully. By ruffling his hair, Peter guessed she’s been wanting to do that for ages.”It is Mrs. Pepper Potts-Stark. But Peter, honey, I would much prefer it if you called me Pepper.”

Peter nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

Pepper did offer him a ride home with them and Happy. But Peter politely declined, having come here via Spider-Man, and would continue home that way. Despite being a good couple of hours trek home. He needs that fresh air again. It didn’t matter that he had come here like this. He was going to do it again.

And thus began his swing home for old times sake.

 

+

 

“Hey, Mr. Stark.” Peter plonked himself down on the chair. For today, it is just him. Day 91 and Tony still hasn’t woken up. “I’m afraid my babysitting duties come to a stop for a bit. Maybe only for today. And Morgan tells me you like being read to. Didn’t know such a fact, Mr. Stark. So…”

From his backpack, he reveals the book _The Hobbit._

“Yeah…” He turns the book cover to face himself, observing at the ripped edges yet the masterpiece still remains. “I know it’s probably a book you’ve read before. But my room is in shambles. I spent a good ten minutes of my life looking for a book to read to you.”

Normally, he would sit down and read with Morgan. As she is not here, he decides that by keeping himself sane to conquer the eerie silence is to read outloud.

“ _The Hobbit, Chapter 1_.” Peter situated himself into a semi-comfortable position in the chair. It provided a cushioned chair and back rest, but after a while it irritates his energetic metabolism.  

_“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.”_

Peter shifted a little, clearing his throat to get rid of the croak and the threatening stutter of reading out loud.

_“It had a perfectly round door like a p-porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke…”_

He stopped, his tongue getting caught in his throat. Instinctively, he looked up to Tony to see if the man was watching him. Of course he wasn’t. It almost felt easier reading to a child as well as his coma-ridden mentor.

“Mr. Stark?”

No answer. Still the oxygen max continued to pump the needed oxygen for the man, the tubes persistently dripping and the sound of the heart monitor beeping steadily.

_“...with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of, uh, of p-pegs for hats and coats — the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill — The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it — and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.”_

Peter’s eyes diverted to the Stark again. Did he see a twitch of the hand?

“Tony?”

The name didn’t filter easily. He was so used to calling Tony, well … Mr. Stark.

He wasn’t going to respond. Although Peter has his false hopes up for Tony pulling through—because he’s so much more than Iron Man—he doubts Tony will wake in his presence.

Peter reached forwards and couldn’t help but gently take Tony’s hand. It was warm, proving to Peter that there was blood circulating Tony’s system. And despite him not being able to breathe on his own just yet, he is alive.

“Sorry, sir,” said Peter, gripping more at his mentor’s hand. “You’re stuck with me reading you day and nighttime stories until I see your damn eyes open.”

 

+

 

“You know there is a trip to Europe coming up?”

Both Peter and Ned were sat at their usual places at the back of the cafeteria by themselves. MJ was nowhere to be seen. And no one seemed to want to bother them at the moment. Overall, Peter was having a pretty chillax day.

“I forgot about that.” Peter nibbled on the ham and cheese sandwich May had packed for him. At first he had insisted that the school’s food was fine—no, really, the school’s food isn’t actually typically bad. But May told him she wanted to do a little something for him. And he appreciates the gesture dearly. Her ham and cheese sandwiches were better by far than the school’s mash potatoes and sausages anyday.

“You wanna come? MJ and I are planning on going. Well, it's a beneficial to our Decathlon team.”

A couple of their people in the team have already gone elsewhere in their lives, having survived the snap and actually moving on with their lives. A few new people have been added as such. It feels as if the people who were snapped were stuck in time, as if aging never mattered.

In his own selfish way, Peter is glad Ned and MJ also got snapped. He doesn’t think he would have survived being with Flash on the team now that he’s back.

“Yeah, that’ll be cool,” Peter replied simply. “Need to get my mind off things.”

“You still Spider-Manning?” asked Ned. He’s gotten greater at lowering his voice when it comes to talking about Spider-Man. Every time, Peter gives him a thankful look. He’s no dimwit when it comes to the gossip as well and nearly caught Peter in a line of fretted panic and managed to calm him down. Ned has been really supporting and helpful these past few months; he knows of Tony and makes sure to give Peter the space he needs. Not that Peter needs any. He’s okay to take care of himself.

“Of course. I won’t give up Spider-Man for a long time.”

“You think Europe will need a bitta’ Spider-Man? I hear the British are jealous of the superheroes we seem to have.”

Peter rolled his eyes and playfully threw a goldfish snack Ned’s way.

“I’m no superhero, Ned,” said Peter. “I’m just around to help the little guy."

This never stopped Ned from calling him a superhero. No matter what.

 

+

 

The call started at exactly 12:00 a.m. Peter awoke with a start to hear the caller I.D. blaring through his sensitive ears. He missed the first call. It came up with No Caller ID. Peter frowned and before he could even rest his head back down on the pillow to catch up on some needed sleep, hsi phone started blaring again.

With a tired groan, he reached over again, retrieved his phone and pressed accept. He pulled his covers to his chest to remain warm but sat up, yawning before saying—

“Hello?” His voice made him cringe.

“Peter? It’s Pepper.”

Now he was suddenly fully awake. Stripping his duvet from his chest and standing to his feet, heart and blood pounding in his ears.

“P-Pepper—”

“He’s awake.” Her voice sounded close to crying with pure and sheer happiness by the sounds of it. “He’s awake. I thought you would like to know as soon as he awoke.”

Peter’s lips twitched, wanting to grace his features into a huge grin. “Oh— _OH_ , holy shit! P-Peppe—can I—can I come? Like, like right now?” Even as he was saying this, he stumbled over to his main light switch and turned it on, the light nearly blinding him but not stopping him from changing from his pyjamas into the clothes he had thrown on the floor from earlier.

“Yes, Peter.” He heard Pepper laugh. The sound of tears, if Peter wasn't mistaken, were wavering in her voice. “If you can. No trouble at all. Happy can pick you up.”

And that is how Peter and My wound up in the back of Happy’s car, on the similar route the hospital that Peter has taken either from driving or swinging or train groping in the last five months.

By the time they got to the hospital, it was almost 1 a.m.

Happy led them towards the room Tony had been staying for the last few months. It was now even more strange knowing Tony is going to be awake. Not like all the other times when he brought in some books to read. Or getting ready to read with Morgan. He had finished _The Hobbit_ and is now halfway through the first _Lord of the Rings_ . With Morgan, they flew through many _Winnie-the-Pooh_ books and little children rhymes. Not only that, but with Peter sharing amusing and fun stories with her when she was feeling particularly sad about her Dad not waking up on a certain day.

Happy stood by the door, a war smile on his face. He nodded towards the door, gesturing for Peter to take a step in.

“Wha—” Peter pointed towards the door and Happy nodded. May lay a hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently and nodded at him to go on.

He swallowed, taking that comfort and courage from May and bringing it with him when he opened the door.

Pepper and Morgan were in there, and both looked up when the door opened; just like the very first time he entered this room. Except this time Mr. Stark isn’t wearing an oxygen mask and his eyes were open. Tired and battered. But they were open. And they met Peter’s.

“Hey, kid.”

His voice was croaky from months of no use. But that didn’t matter. Because Peter was making his way over and couldn’t help but lean down and as gently as he could. Hig Tony, head going to his mentor’s shoulder. Tony breathed out  little rapidly before one arm snaked around Peter’s back, a breathy laugh escaping him.

“I knew you’d live…” Peter couldn’t help but whisper. He pulled back, and Tony’s hand still stuck to him, now resting on his shoulder. He was grinning tiredly, still a little out of breath. His dark eyes flicked between Morgan and Peter.

“Well, with all that reading, you didn’t leave me in peace.”

Peter almost gaped at him. “Y-you … You heard all that.”

Tony nodded, head lulling a bit. “Sure did, bud.”

“Daddy, Peter’s really good at doing Winnie-the-Pooh’s voice!” Morgan exclaimed excitedly.

Was it possible for Tony to grin even more. Was the dull ache that had passed Tony so many times throughout the years now sparkling for the people surrounding?

Peter let out a laugh, cheeks going scarlet.

“I think you should take it easy for now, Tony,” Pepper said. She too had the biggest smile on her face, not seeming to falter.

“Ah, c’mon, Pep. I can have a little fun, can’t I, Morgana?”

Morgan pouted, her lip jutting out adorably. “Mommy says rest, Daddy.”

“Yeah, we don’t wanna kill you on your first day outta’ bed.”

All looked towards the door to find none-other than Harley. Tony looked incredibly bewildered to see him there.

“Holy shit, potato gun. You’ve gotten big. How old are you?”

“Nearly seventeen, Tony,” said Harley with a smirk.

“And yet you’re taller than this one?” Tony pointed at Peter.

Peter mocked an offended look. “You wound me, sir.”

Pepper tutted, shaking her head as she stood up, Morgan balanced on her hip. “I think its time for all you children to get to bed—yes, you too, Tony Stark.”

“I think it’s time I talk to my honeybear.” Tony nodded towards the door. Peter found his gaze towards Rhodey—War Machine—Tony’s best friend. He’s seen the man around the hospital a couple of times. More so all of them have. Peter sees everyone in this room, including Happy and May in here the most.

“Alright,” said Pepper, getting ready to leave and to put a very sleepy-lookin Morgan down to sleep. Wherever that is. Happy briefly mentioned to them on the way here they would have their own rooms to stay in for the night. “You two lovebirds converse. Morgan, ay goodnight.”

Morgan waved. She made grabby hands for Tony and Peter watched in awe as his mentor reached up, too her hand and kissed it. It made Morgan giggle, the sound so familiar to Peter’s ears now.

“Goodnight, Daddy. I love you.”

“3000?” Tony said, the tilt of his head making him resemble a puppy.

“3000.”

One by one, they said goodnight. Harley bantered with Tony before deciding to get some shut-eye. Before Peter left Rhodey and Tony to it, he couldn’t help but smile shyly at his mentor.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony looked up. “Underoos?”

He’s missed that dumb nickname.

“We won.”

Tony actually laughed at that. Peter was touched.

“We sure did, Pete.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for any mistakes and the train-wreck. but ... i ditched my media coursework for this fanfiction.
> 
> thank you for reading :) 1 kudo = 1 hug for tony's children.


End file.
